


Velveteen Boy

by Scarlet_Ribbons



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU: Animators and Creations, Anal Sex and Fingering, Jensen is a doll, Jensen is not human, M/M, Top Jared/Bottom Jensen, and I am sorry, smpc, this story is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14249955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Ribbons/pseuds/Scarlet_Ribbons
Summary: There are some sensations that tear all of his stitches.





	Velveteen Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is scientifically weird, so I'm going to preface this with the note that both elements of magic and science are at play in this story. Also Jensen isn't anatomically human.

On a good day, Jensen's barely held together. He thinks his best feature's probably the swell of his lips, the only thing even about his face. There's a spot over the kink of his nose where the freckles are uneven, the smattering falling off the slope of his nose at an angle. 

He'd stitched it together poorly, nearly dry-heaving from how far he strayed from symmetry. Humans loved symmetry. Maker craved it, pinched and prodded and coaxed pins through the cream-felt of Jensen's skin until he was a pincushion of colors. 

Couldn't do that anymore, not since Jensen poisoned him and all. He was mean. Jensen didn't care much for mean people. Granted, he'd only ever known Maker, but he liked to think Maker wasn't the standard for human decency. Maker's own family, a wretched tale of slashed-through portraits adorning the wall above the banister, could hardly stand the sight of him, their disgust only magnified when their black sheep of a son brought home a battered doll of a boy. 

It's hard to die when you're animated fabric, but the look Maker's mother gave him made the cotton in his stomach twist. 

Anyway, Maker and his ungodly mother couldn't hurt Jensen any more, not with Maker sealed away into one of the knights on the second floor. Or something. Jensen moves him around sometimes, just for fun, and it's not like he can smell the decay, anyway. His eyes only barely work; Maker used cat's eye stones, because he thought they were pretty, but it blurs his vision at both extremes. His eyes and the pads of his fingertips are functional; he's never been able to fix his own hearing, though. Maker had mostly created him to be used for pleasure, so Jensen feels little pain when his stitches tear and tiny, shocky bursts when he touches himself.

Poppy slithers along at his side, letting out a hiss he barely hears through all the cotton, and she's probably whining about wanting to go outside. Maker created a contraption to understand Poppy, but after two days of static, all that filtered through was,  _I am bored. I could kill you. That would be funny. I wonder if you taste good._ And other such variations, until even Maker was so unnerved that he removed the contraption. These days, Jensen mostly pretends he can understand her.

"The castle is nice," Jensen rebuffs mildly, using the fabric of his thumb to scoop up dust that clumps underneath a particularly atrocious portrait of Maker. "Why don't you go play with Reba?"  

Another hiss succinctly tells him what he can do with the tiny mechanical assistant. He thinks. And a more forlorn one has him sighing, leaning over to drape Poppy over his shoulders. 

"Firstly, that wasn't nice. And secondly, I know Maker's gone. I just..." he trails off, glancing at the window as they pass, at the storm clouds gathering outside as if just to emphasize how dreary the mansion is. "It's going to rain," he says lightly, ignoring Poppy's hiss of discontent. "Can't go out when it rains."

He can't tell exactly what she's thinking anymore, but the expression on her face tells him everything he needs to know.

\--

He doesn't really sleep; instead, for several hours a day, he stares blankly at the enormous windows that face the forest behind the house. It's Halloween night; Maker used to love this holiday the most. He would make his own candies and sit beside the door with a bowl of putrid, cellophane-wrapped 'chocolates,' but only the bravest of kids would approach the door at all. When Maker would answer, hair springing in every direction, dreadful smile plastered on his face, the kids would scream and scatter, fake bandages and witch hats in their wake.

Maker would get upset and make Jensen 'eat' his candies. They clumped up his cotton. He was grateful he couldn't taste.

Tonight's Halloween promises a truly fantastic storm; Jensen watches the branched, dead trees seduce the night sky with their curved finger-branches, feels each rumble of thunder in his cottoned limbs, perches on the couch with Poppy to watch for flashes of lightning. This is what usually passes as excitement for Jensen; he finds nature far more entertaining than the two channels on TV, and once in a while Poppy hisses soothingly, cool, dry scales sliding over the back of his neck. He is quietly content.

But the next bellow of thunder brings with it an unexpected sound- glass shattering perhaps a room over from where Poppy and Jensen are seated. Jensen sits up, Poppy hissing as she tightens around his neck, and both wait for a moment before there's a loud, emphatic  _"FUCK!"_ from where they heard the glass shattering. 

"Intruder! Intruder!" Reba squawks uselessly, insect-like legs scuttling over the floor as she runs around in panicked circles, the patchwork metal across her back gleaming dully in the minimal glow coming from the single lamp in the room. Jensen ignores Poppy's regal hiss of contempt and picks up a poker before hesitantly making his way over to the site of the break-in: Maker's study, a room he was never allowed in unless under dire circumstances. He's curious, but more than that... He's afraid. He hasn't really seen another human since Maker in person, only in magazines and books and sometimes on TV, and he isn't even sure what another human might be like face to face. The only two humans he's ever really known are Maker, who was certifiably insane, and Maker's mother, who was so full of contempt toward her son that he wasn't sure if her behavior passed as typical human behavior.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the voice chants, and Jensen hears a quite incredible thud as the intruder no doubt trips over Maker's useless collectibles and junk and sprawls over the floor. Judging by the sound and the voice, Jensen quietly determines that the intruder must be a very tall man... Just like Maker.

He turns on the light.

The body is mostly hidden behind Maker's forsaken desk, daunting in its own right, behind which the shattered window opened an uneven maw to show off the dark backyard. Rain had started to fall, the wind blowing hard enough that it started to get all over the carpet in Maker's study. There's an open knapsack tipped onto its side beside the body, and Jensen's eyes are drawn to the way the contents sparkle. Jewelry spills out in a small mound, jewelry that Jensen is fairly certain does not belong to the man, and that suspicion is reaffirmed by the faint sound of police sirens in the background.

"Shit, what the fuck is all of this garbage?" the voice complains, and Jensen freezes, cotton probably stuck in his throat as he watches the man rise from the wreckage he caused. 

Well... If anything, he's certainly tall, just like Maker. But the similarities end there. Where Maker was pale from the long days he spent holed up and obsessing over his experiments, the criminal's skin is a lively caramel, emphasized by Maker's antique lamp. The color of his hair is deeper, as deep as the grooves in his cheeks. Dimples. Maker's mother had them, though more faded. He looks absolutely astonished.

"You're... Uh." The criminal says, swiping a plate-sized hand through his already tamed, slightly wet hair. "Sorry, what... Um, what are you?" 

Jensen blinks, looking down at Reba whizzing in circles around his feet and Poppy draped around his wrists. "Um... I'm Jensen. I'm a ... I'm a creation. The owner of this house created me."

"Oh." The intruder still looks taken aback, though he seems to finally move away from the window and even pushes the curtains clumsily over the hole so that rain doesn't soak through Jensen's fabric. "You're not, uh... A human, right?" He approaches Jensen warily, and Jensen tenses, clutching the poker tighter. "Oh, you're like... Kinda like those dolls-turned-humans. Like... Uh, patchwork. The owner must be an Animator... Right?" 

It's true that he's not quite as advanced as the  _humans_ that far more accomplished inventors than Maker have created, but he can still  _feel._ And what he feels is indignant hurt. It must show in his posture, as the criminal hastily retracts.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm Jared." Jared holds up his hands apologetically. "Didn't mean to offend you. Uh, Jensen, right?" He clears his throat. "Not to alarm you, but I think there's a snake in your hands."

"Poppy," Jensen says, and Poppy hisses with either more contempt or in an introductory sort of way. "And that's Reba. The one... At my feet. She's supposed to be an assistant but Maker's proportions are off so she's too small. But she kept escaping him when he tried to dismantle her so he let her stay. She's pretty useless," he says over the little assistant's robotic yelps. 

"Maker?" Jared glances around the house, then goes over to pick up his jewelry- or someone else's jewelry -while giving the mess a guilty look. "I guess that all of this is his, then?" 

"Yes, but you don't have to worry about him," Jensen says as Jared moves closer to him again. "He's .. He died some time ago."

"I'm sorry." Jared says, then hefts the bag in his arms. "You're here alone, in this creepy house?" His eyes seem to look right into Jensen, which gives Jensen a weird half-trapped, half-excited rush. "That seems... Really lonely. I'm sorry for breaking in, the police are on my tail and I had to escape to somewhere." he adds, that intense gaze still locked onto Jensen's. Jensen just nods, unsure of what to say, and just watches silently as Jared lifts a hand to trail it over the stitches criss-crossing Jensen's cheeks.

It tingles. 

"I'm just curious," Jared whispers, and Jensen feels an unexpected thrill, a swooping rush in his stomach that he didn't think could ever happen to him. "I've never seen a pre-human doll up close."

"It feels nice," Jensen whispers back, poker abandoned at his feet as he lifts his hand to wrap it around Jared's sturdy wrist. Jared's built  _broad,_ shoulders spanning an ocean-like distance compared to Maker. "Are you stealing things? Is someone after you?" he asks after a moment, stepping back and away from the just barely-there warmth of Jared's slightly wet hand. "Is someone going to come here and look around?" Jensen doesn't want people looking around, mostly because, well, there's a dead body on the second floor, and Maker wasn't exactly creating things legally. People are supposed to obtain licenses to practice magic and animation, but Maker had always operated around that rule, which meant Jensen wasn't registered as a creation and therefore illegal. He could be taken apart.

"Nobody's gonna come," Jared promises, still halfway into Jensen's personal bubble. There's this.. Warmth radiating off the human, even though he's just come in from the cold. He's big and bold and ... There's a word on Jensen's tongue.  _Beautiful,_ maybe. He's always loved seeing beautiful people. Once, a magazine mistakenly got delivered to Maker's house, some sort of fashion magazine that was meant to be delivered miles away to the nearest neighbors. Jensen had shivered his way through the magazine, petting the pretty faces and feeling like crying when it was too overwhelming to look at their perfect perfect skin.

Jared looks like one of them. Perfect perfect.

"They don't know I'm here," Jared continues, and then kinda makes a face when he actually gets a whiff of the house's smell. Jensen suddenly feels terribly self-conscious. He hadn't known he would have a guest, after all. He might have cleaned up a little more, hidden Maker's junk in his closet. Maker collected things, but useless things, and was a hoarder, so he kept even chip bags and soda cans because he deemed them 'useful.' "So Jensen, I was wondering, can I stay the night?" 

Jensen gulps. It's a terrifying thought. "There's only one bedroom... Maker used to sleep there. But he's dead so I'm not sure you want to sleep where he used to sleep. The couch is kind of comfortable," he says, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at Jared. 

"Maker? Your creator?" Jared frowns, stepping a little closer to Jensen. "Where did you sleep?" 

"I didn't really," Jensen shrugs his patchy shoulders. "I don't sleep. The functions I have are sight, although it's not great, hearing, and touch. I don't need to use the restroom because I don't eat or drink, but I have to replace my cotton once in a while."

Jared makes a thoughtful sound, dropping the bag on his couch and sitting down. "This guy Maker seems like a dick," he says, before reaching out to trail his thumb over Jensen's stitches. "If I made something as beautiful as you, I'd show everyone."

Jensen makes a shocked sound, recoiling a little. "I am not beautiful, I have stitches.. My skin isn't smooth," he says, and though he can't cry, it make him indescribably sad. "I will never be smooth... No one will ever want to touch me."

"Well hey now," Jared's voice has this smoky drawl to it, like there's ash clumped up around his words. "That's not true. I'm touching you, aren't I?" 

Jensen's stomach does that swoopy rush again, even though that's ridiculous... All he has inside of him is cotton, he couldn't possibly be feeling  _this_ anxious and stirred up even though Jared hasn't really  _done_ anything. He moves closer, pressing more of himself into Jared's broad palm, before hesitantly sitting down beside him. One of his legs barely trails against Jared's, and when he leans in, he cringes at his own neediness. "You don't find me disgusting?" 

"Nah," Jared leans in, lips just barely touching Jensen's. "You're so pretty. Prettier than a lot of the pre-human dolls." His thumb rests against the corner of Jensen's marbled eyes. "You can feel all of this, can't you?" At Jensen's shaky nod, Jared leans in, and Jensen feels the warmth of his lips before they make contact. He gulps against Jared's mouth, the swooping feeling back, and exhales when he feels those same little sparks he's felt when touching himself. They're hotter now, burning in his hips, though he has no idea how that is even possible. He hadn't realized he could feel this level of intensity. 

They don't stop there. Jared licks into the fabric of Jensen's mouth, his hands moving down to squeeze Jensen's hips first before moving a little further and resting against his ass. Jensen's not quite sure where they're going with this, but someone-  _Jared -_ finds him desirable, doesn't care that his nose has a ridge or that he's all stitched up. He arches against the warm hands, straightening in Jared's lap and moving down so he can feel the hard line of Jared's dick pressed against his belly.

He knows all about human male anatomy; he's had years to study it and read about it in the trunks of novels that Maker never touched. 

"Turn around." Jared says, husky and whiskey-voiced, low enough that something about it makes Jensen tremble. He complies, resting his hands against the oak table as he automatically spreads his legs. "I'm not really sure how to go about this," Jared admits, trailing his fingers over the seam of Jensen's now exposed ass. 

"It's just stitches and cotton. It doesn't hurt if the stitches rip," Jensen lies, but he doesn't want Jared to be concerned, he just wants Jared to  _do it._ He can't believe he's been deprived of this electrical feeling for so long, he almost wants to scream at how frustrated he is, and when Jared shrugs and breaks a couple stitches to press his fingers inside Jensen, the pinch of pain is nothing compared to how it feels with Jared's fingers inside of his body.

He quakes a little, arms trembling at how it feels; he'd never been able to feel that sensual tingle on the same level of intensity as now, with Jared's index and middle finger twisting up the cotton inside of him.

"This is so weird," Jared whispers, but not in a demeaning way. He sounds a little awestruck.

"It's  _g-good,"_ Jensen whines, wanting more, so he reaches back to tear another stitch, urging Jared to add more fingers until he's practically pressing his whole hand into Jensen. Jensen's vision goes blurry when he feels Jared clench at the cotton inside of him, and he reaches downward to grip his own dick. He doesn't quite get hard, but it feels... Intense when he touches himself, his whole body shivering at the feeling.

"Hold up," Jared says, standing up, and Jensen just kind of gurgles when Jared replaces his fingers with his dick, tearing through a few more stitches when he pushes his way into him. Jensen's entire body lights up from the sensation, an aching wet groan torn from his body when he feels Jared  _literally_ rearranging his insides. Jensen's never had to drink water, but he feels the wet-hot, slick flesh spearing inside of him,  _inside him._ He shakes, panting as Jared leans over him and holds onto his wrists to keep him in place.

"It's  _so,"_ Jensen whines, unable to get the proper words out. Maker hadn't known how to properly animate and bring Jensen back to life, and his priority had been sex so he hadn't even given Jensen the ability to eat or drink; but right now, Jensen really didn't care about that. He only cared about the way he was tearing apart around each thrust of Jared's hips, but he honestly didn't care; the pain and the pleasure from Jared inside him, Jared gripping his hips, overwhelmed any desire he'd ever had to eat or drink. 

Jared buries himself deep with each forceful thrust, setting a sort of rhythm, and every time he pulls out again he leaves Jensen aching and empty and lonely. Makes him crave for a few seconds, just waiting for the next inevitable thrust to make him tremble. His insides feel wet, and it's so bizarre but so  _good._

Above him, Jared makes kind of a choked sound before he's coming, and Jensen trembles his way through an intense sensation that he can't describe. It's close to an orgasm- maybe not exactly -but it leaves him feeling spent and weak, like when he'd just been animated for the first time. The shy excitement he'd felt then is how he feels now, when he'd first felt needed and desirable. He quivers at the way he feels inside,  _dripping,_ flooded, and curses Maker for not giving him the ability to come as well.  

Jared leans in against him, pressing a kiss against the back of his velvety throat, and Jensen surprises both of them with a tragic little sound.

"What's wrong?" Jared asks, warm and  _alive,_ and Jensen just shakes his head as he rests his head shakily between his own arms on the cold table. Poppy hisses somewhere off to the side, concerned, but not concerned enough to stop tormenting Reba and come over. "Jensen? Are you okay? Did I damage you?"

Jensen nearly laughs at the irony. "It was good... You didn't damage me. You made me  _feel..._ something. Like I was alive." He turns, shivering at the sticky-wet inside of him. "But... I'm damaged already, and I'm not.. Alive. Maker... He didn't have Animator status, he... He did everything illegally. He thought he could teach himself the proper spells and learn from old, dusty books in libraries that haven't been used for years, but he  _couldn't._ I'm ... I'm not even half a person." He would have cried, if he could. "I'm just an ugly, botched toy."

Jared's silent for a moment. "We can change that." 

His voice sounds fuzzy for a moment, and Jensen turns so he can fully see Jared. "What?"

"My friend, Chad." Jared moves back, trails his thumb over the torn stitches and makes Jensen tremble. "He's got his Animator license. He's not exactly squeaky clean himself, but he owes me a favor, so we can have him take a look.." He moves his fingers upward, knuckles trailing over the small of Jensen's back. "He could either fully make you ... Human, or he'd at least be able to properly restore all of your senses and make you more functional." He turns Jensen around. "We can replace the cotton I ruined," he smiles sheepishly, before stroking the bridge of Jensen's nose. "And then I'll take you there. We can do it tonight, fuck the jewelry. Chad never sleeps anyway, just runs on caffeine all through the night. What do you think?"

With a proper Animator license, an Animator had the power to bring to life their creations. While some animated objects and drawings, others, like Maker aspired to be, animated life-sized dolls into real humans.  

Jensen's almost too scared to speak. "... I won't have stitches anymore? I can be... beautiful?"

"Oh," Jared smiles, pulling Jensen closer and kissing the tip of his velvet nose. "You're already beautiful to me. But I would like you to be able to come, because I want you to enjoy yourself, too."

Jensen's lost a lot of his hope, but he shakes with excitement and feels that heat swoop through him. "I want it. I want that... I want to be a human. More like a human. Anything more than this."

Jared's got the prettiest smile. 

"I have a snake," Jensen whispers. "Poppy won't stay here if I'm not here. Is your friend okay with snakes? Reba's my mechanical assistant. She's really useless, but Poppy likes to tortu- Er, play with her. They're friends. Sort of," he says rapidly, over the sound of Reba's distressed squawks as Poppy playfully snaps at her. "And, um. Yeah." He doesn't care to take anything with him from the house, choosing to just loop Poppy around his neck and put Reba in his pocket. The gruesome portraits of Maker remain scattered over the walls, but Jensen doesn't really want to remember him.

"That's okay," Jared, for some reason, looks as though he finds Poppy to be the weirdest part of everything. They stand in the doorway, and Jensen's not sure if he's cold or scared or excited or all three at once. "Chad is scared of snakes. It'll be funny."

Jensen wonders if he should tell Jared about the dead body inside a knight costume on the second floor, because that's definitely pretty weird, and someone will find it eventually. Maybe. 

Eh. He'll save it for the second date.


End file.
